The Shadowlands
by Natalia Mir
Summary: The time for mourning would come. At the moment, they must figure out how to breathe again. Post-War. Stages of Death and Dying.
1. Chapter 1

May 3rd, 1998. 17:47

The Great Hall, Hogwarts Castle

* * *

_If I ever leave this world alive_

_I'll thank for all the things you did in my life_

_If I ever leave this world alive_

_I'll come back down and sit beside your feet tonight_

_Wherever I am you'll always be_

_More than just a memory_

_If I ever leave this world alive_

~If I Ever Leave This World Alive, Flogging Molly

* * *

Kingsley folded the well-worn parchment paper with yellowing around the edges, and placed it back into his pocket. He couldn't think about her now, not when so many people had - when so many people were lost. They needed someone strong and levelheaded to keep everything going, everyone going. But still, he couldn't get her out of his head. A teenager, barely an adult, and he didn't know if she was dead or alive. Focus, Kingsley, you must focus. What needs to be done? You can thank her later.

Kingsley was the kind of person who needed something to do, even after battle. He couldn't just sit there, thinking about the Auror he had helped train, who had become his partner and his best friend. She wasn't supposed to die. She was so young, and had just become a mother. There was so much left for her to do. They were supposed to grow old together, but she would never have the chance. Everyone had lost so much, and in this moment, he wondered if it was worth it.

He couldn't help it then. He couldn't help but lean his exhausted body against the long Gryffindor table in the Great Hall as he once again pulled out the letter. This time, he read it out loud. It seemed fitting at the eve of the battle, venerating the dead.

April 17th, 1998

Professors Carrow and Carrow,

You demanded an essay from your seventh year students about the merits and methods of "punishing" those who go against the will of Your Dark Lord, and by extension, you as well. Us seventh years in Ravenclaw house have spent countless hours debating this topic. The conclusion that I, Mandy Brocklehurst, have drawn is that there is no method or merits to your sadistic madness. Knowledge and intelligence is clearly not on your side of the war.

When we arrived at Hogwarts this year, we expected this year would be far from simple. With Dumbledore murdered by one of your fancy henchmen, everything had changed. But were you really idiotic to think that we could so quickly turn our backs on Harry and all our friends whom you deemed unworthy of life and magic? We grew up knowing Harry Potter's story and bravery. He was our hero, and Voldemort was just some sociopathic coward defeated by a baby. So you came to Hogwarts, and expected us all to worship and serve you, but you found rebels instead of slaves.

Instead of using fear and confusion (working in the dead of the night, etc.), you chose to use intimidation and public punishment. Let's take a look at how events turned out.

Newton's 2nd Law of Thermodynamics: every action has an equal and opposite reaction. You found the school much more difficult to restrain then you supposed. You hounded specific targets- respected and hardworking students. Do you want me to name names? Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood. All of which are known cohorts of Harry Potter. And what did they do? Restarted the D.A. Except now we have students in every house, we have connections to the outside world. And unlike you, we are not cowards. We are prepared and willing to be hurt and tortured and killed if it means our families and friends don't have to.

But, the thing is, we don't want to die. We want to live in a world at peace, full of love. We want a world where Voldemort doesn't posses first year girls or kill seventh year boys for getting in the way. So we will fight like you would never believe. And some of us will die. And the thing is, that doesn't scare me as much as it does you.

That's about all I can say about methods and merits of torturing innocent students- the likelihood that this will cause said students to plot against you. If I were you, I wouldn't bet any money on getting any helpful essays about torture from any of the students here who actually have hearts.

Cold regards,

Mandy Brocklehurst

P.S. I highly doubt I will see you on the other side. I hope you realize before you die just how wrong you were about everything. Some things are worth living for and dying for.

Kingsley stood there, looking across what now barely resembled the great hall. The students who had chosen to stay and fight a losing battle; they had known what was worthy dying for.


	2. Chapter 2

May 3rd, 1998. 19:21

The Corridor, Hogwarts Castle

* * *

_I see it around me, I see it in everything._

_I could be so much more than this._

_I said my goodbye's this is my sundown._

_I'm gonna be so much more than this._

_With one hand high, you'll show them your progress._

_You'll take your time, but no one cares._

_No one cares._

_I need you to show me the way from crazy._

_I wanna be so much more than this._

_With one hand high, you'll show them your progress._

_You'll take your time, but no one cares._

_With one hand high, you'll show them your progress._

_You'll take your time, but no one cares._

_No one cares._

~My Sundown, Jimmy Eat World

* * *

He'd kill to have Harry's invisibility cloak. Except for today, he had killed. He killed humans- sick, demented, sadistic humans who had tortured, threatened, and murdered so many- but still, they were men. He couldn't help but wonder if... NO! He couldn't dwell. He did what he had to do to protect those he loved. But still, was it right?

And there was blood everywhere. On him, in his hair, on his shirt, on his hands – the blood seeped into his very being. His blood, Nagini's blood, the blood of his friends who had fucking died in his arms. His body began to rage, to tremble. It was not all right. Would it ever be all right?

The walls of the Great Hall seemed to close in on him. He reckoned it was aftereffects of the battle. Adrenophine, or something similar, Michael used to rattle on and on to him about, trying to prepare him for battle. But now, Michael was lifeless and cold. They had won the war and defeated Voldemort. Victory! But Neville couldn't help but notice the war-ravaged people. And those were the survivors. Victory, it seems, couldn't come until mourning was over.

Mourning would not be over for the Weasley family for a very long time. But his best friend, his soldier-in-arms was not mourning with the rest of her family.

For some reason, this frightened Neville Longbottom in a way the battle had not. He couldn't quite describe the feeling he felt then at the bottom of his gut. A sense of fear and foreboding. He didn't know why he felt so scared, just that he had seen what had happened with Ginny the past year, what happened to all of them. Communicating with Fred and George, pulling pranks, listening to Potterwatch, all of which had been what had kept her alive and fighting at Hogwarts. Fred was gone now, and George would never be the same.

He had to find Ginny immediately. Harry wouldn't, and Harry couldn't. He loved her, but he hasn't been with her at Hogwarts. He had been too busy chasing down remains of Voldemort's soul. He wasn't here, he didn't see how lost Ginny had been, how reckless she had become. No, Harry couldn't bring her back to the land of the living. Only Neville.

He picked up his wand, smoothed down his grimy scarlet robes, and limped out of the Great Hall. He had a sinking suspicion to the youngest Weasley's whereabouts. A right, another right, left past the corridor, up a flight of stairs, straight through the corridor. There was one makeshift landmark in the castle that would not have been destroyed by evil forces or battle. It was almost unfathomable why Ginny would seek respite there, except for the fact that most avoided it, and her family would certainly not look for her there.

He noticed the blood-red scrawl on the corridor wall before he noticed the hand that had written it. For a few moments, he stood there entranced by the writing. _Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever._ What it must have been like for her to walk past, day after day, with those words ringing in her ears. If possible, his respect for Ginny Weasley increased in that moment. She had always seemed so carefree and daring, even with the Carrows. But she mustn't had been. Not all the time, at least.

He felt her gaze on him, as he was staring at the corridor wall. He turned abruptly towards her, breaching the distance within steps. She didn't even flinch. He took in her appearance- she had this faraway look in her eyes that reminded him of Luna, except worse somehow. Ginny had always been so present, so there. Now she was anything but. He motioned for them to move on, disliking the proximity to the cruel words. She wordlessly refused, instead sliding down against the wall, ending up with knees up and arms wrapped strongly around her body. Neville followed suit, placing his left arm around her back in what he prayed was a comforting manner.

Rebuilding could wait. Speaking with his Gran or Kingsley or Madam Pomphrey could wait. His guilt could wait. Right now, The beautifully fragmented girl with flaming red hair needed her best friend.

"I always figured he was right," Ginny whispered, grasping his hand in hers. Her voice was raspy, but with an unusual edge to it. Responding to his questioning look, she pointed at the wall and continued. "Tom Riddle. Voldemort. The cruel 16 year old who was my only friend for a year."

Neville did not like where this conversation was headed, but he recognized the importance of it. Ginny needed to finally get out what had plagued her dreams and nightmares all those years. But Ginny had fallen silent and instead pulled out a series of Muggle pictures from her pocket. Neville noticed a few of Ginny and Demelza and the rest of the Quidditch team, but before he could look that the rest Ginny began shredding them to pieces, muttering as she went. He was only able to hear select phrases, such as "Colin," "Room of Requirement," "not coming back" as well as a smattering of swear words.

"Ginny, please tell me what is going on." He pleaded, grasping her hands in his if only to stop her from doing more damage. Something was incredibly wrong and twisted inside of her, and he was helplessly out of the loop.

"I always thought it would be-", her voice broke, and she was barely audible. "I thought, I was prepared to, I said my goodbyes dammit!"

"You thought you were going to die?" He couldn't help the tear that escaped from his eye. She had never said.

"I should have. It would have been far better." No, Ginny, come on. You can't believe that. After everything. He started to realize, abet slowly, that she did believe that. She didn't know how much her family needed her, or Harry, or the D.A.

"Better than what? Better than Voldemort being defeated? Because if you died, Harry would have too. And he wouldn't have come back." Maybe that was pushing it, but he didn't care. He had to make her understand. He let go of her hand and shifted his body so he could look her in the eyes. He began speaking slowly but without room for interruption. She needed to listen.

"I know you think your family would have an easier time with your death than Fred's. I cannot compare you two, I cannot bring him back. I know you are hurting. I know you are scared to move on. You went through something different than the rest of the D.A. did this year, I realize that now. But Ginny, you gotta quit fucking around with your life." He gulped, fearing she would hate him for pitying her.

"I was there the day your brothers found out you were taken into the Chamber of Secrets. I have never seen anyone so torn apart by grief. Not even today. I never mentioned it, none of us did, but you need to know. And I didn't even know you then. Since then, you have become my best friend. We joined the D.A. together. You introduced me to Luna. You convinced me I was worth something. I just never figured you didn't believe it about yourself."

Ginny was staring at him, and there was not a tear in her eyes. She looked beautiful. Blazing red hair to match blazing personality. But she couldn't hold his gaze. She was staring at him, but still avoiding his eyes. His words did not seem to reassure her. They seemed to make things worse.

"Neville, if I hadn't convinced you to join the D.A., or to restart it this year, you wouldn't have had to be tortured in class. Luna wouldn't have been kidnapped. Lavender, Seamus, Parvati, everyone would have gone through a lot less pain. They went after you because of my stupid pranks." So that's what this was about. It wasn't about her family at all, or less than he had thought. They knew what they were getting into, she didn't force them to join. It hasn't even been her idea.

How dare she forget her own sacrifices. He felt anger surge within him- at her for just being so Ginny. At himself for letting it get this far. He couldn't help but raise his voice at her.

"It was our fault too! Don't you dare blame yourself. You took more punches than any of us. They nearly killed you. They would have had you stayed after Easter. I can't believe you. I can't believe you would pin this on yourself. Sure you made mistakes. You were reckless, but not with us. Your biggest mistake was caring to much about the rest of the D.A. And not enough about yourself." He was afraid he had gone too far. She still wouldn't look at him. Had he said something wrong?

He was startled out of his worries by a bone-crushing hug. Seriously, Ginny was probably the strongest chaser in school, which was saying something. He felt the hot sting of tears against his back.

_In all of his years as her friend, Neville had never before seen Ginny Weasley cry._


	3. Chapter 3

May 4th, 1998. 2:34 A.M.

Makeshift Infirmary, Hogwarts Castle

* * *

_All day staring at the ceiling_

_Making friends with shadows on my wall_

_All night hearing voices telling me_

_That I should get some sleep_

_Because tomorrow might be good for something_

~Unwell, Matchbox 20

* * *

Few were awake at this hour. The battle had long since ceased, and families had retired to dormitories and common rooms to sleep and mourn in private. There was one last task Mr. Weasley had to complete before he could retire as well. A task he would gladly have given to someone else, but he was oddly suited for the job.

The infirmary was nearly empty; most patients had either been healed up, sent to St. Mungo's, or moved out in body bags. The room itself smelt of death and broken dreams. In the far left end of the row of beds lay young Lavender Brown, and another figure outstretched over her limp body. Magic could not awaken people from comas. But it was not Ms. Brown that he was concerned with.

He had never actually spoken with Parvati Patil before, and he hated to introduce himself like this. His steps slowed as he approached her. She was kneeling by Ms. Brown's side, her gaze fixed on her. Arthur did not know her, but he appreciated what she was doing. Her body shifted a little as she heard him come in. Her robes were disheveled and matted with blood. Regardless of spending so much time in the infirmary, she had not sought medical attention. She turned her head around to look at him. There was a faded bruise on her cheek, a few on her arms, and a vapid look in her eyes. He coughed a few times, mentally steeling himself for the conversation to come, but she cut in before he had the chance to begin.

"She's gone, isn't she? Something happened, and she isn't coming back?"

Arthur was surprised by the firm resignation in her voice. He moved to put his arm around her, but she flinched away.

"I am sorry, sir. I guessed when you walked in. It has been hours since anyone has come visit. Even Madam Pomfrey tucked in for the night. There was no other possibility. Plus, I think I knew."However he was expecting the conversation to turn out, it wasn't this. It wasn't defeat. He looked at her, really looked, and he knew there was something missing.

"Ms. Patil, I don't think you understand. Your sister was-"

"Killed. I know. I have known. Part of me feels gone, the better part." Parvati had stood up now, and started walking out of the infirmary. As she was walking off, her words echoed through infirmary. "Padma was always the better half. Tell Ginny and everyone I am sorry. The D.A. were the best of friends and the best of people."

Her latest words, although kind and touching, reminded him altogether too much of a last goodbye.

He retired to the common room soon after that, with a growing feeling of unease. His family had spread out among the chairs and couches, his wife and all his remaining children asleep but for one. Ginny was reclining on the couch with her eyes open, staring at the fire. He decided to take the seat next to her, hoping he would not startle her too much.

In the next few moments, he felt her flinch, and felt the cool feel of a wand against his neck. He listened to her whispered apology, and wrapped his hands around her. He was thankful to have his daughter with him, finally, after they had fought so hard and lost so much.

"Ginny, what do you know about Parvati Patil?" He couldn't help but ask her. She nodded in understanding, not bothering to find the motive behind his question.

"She has a heart with a lot of room for love. She's grown up so much this year, but she will be crushed by Padma's death."

"And her parents?" Ginny waited a few moments to answer.

"I have never met them and the twins would barely mention them. But, they seemed very cold. Not at all like you and mum." Arthur found himself nodded his head, but desperately wanting to disagree at the same time.

Fred's death was tearing at his family, but at least they had a lot of love and warmth to go around. They would grieve, and it would be tough, especially on George, but he knew his family would survive. He felt grateful for that.

"Ginny, if you can, I want you to look after her here. Especially when her parents come. I know you are hurting, I know it's asking too much-" Ginny interrupted him, the fire returning to her voice.

"But Lavender is in a coma and may never wake. Hermione wasn't here this year and barely knows her. She's got no one else. " He smiled a little smile at her. He had seen his daughter grow up this year, painfully at times, and he really was proud of her.

May 4th, 1998. 10:02

He woke up rather late in the morning, feeling surprisingly refreshed. The war was over. Although the pang in his heart for Fred and Lupin and Tonks was still there, he knew they were happy and laughing together somewhere beyond the horizon. He glanced around the room again, a little bit dazed. The majority of his family was absent, he assumed to begin rebuilding and repairing the castle. George was still there, though. His son gave him a wane smile, but the laughter was gone from his eyes. He spoke in a soft voice, "Mum and Bill are working out arrangements for Fred and the Lupins, Charlie went on a stroll, Percy is talking with Shaklebolt about future plans for Hogwarts and the Ministry, Ron and Hermione are 'talking', Harry is God knows where, and Ginny is meeting with family members of the D.A." George had put air quotes around talking, and Arthur was sure he saw a hint of a smile. George made a strained face, as if trying to remember something, and added "Ginny said to look out for Parvati's father. She had to meet with Colin's parents. I could tell she didn't like him, she had that Weasley look in her eye."

Arthur nodded, buttoning up his shirt and cleaning his clothes with a flick of his wand. Scourgify didn't seem to do anything for the grime left over from the battle. He wondered if he would ever be clean again.

"Would you mind coming with me to look for Parvati? I want to make sure things are all right, and I think it would help for you to be there." George nodded in affirmation, placed his wand in his back pocket, and walked out of the portrait hole.

It didn't take long to locate Parvati, on account of a very loud shouting match between her father and her. Well, him shouting and her saying nothing in response. He didn't want to intrude on such an intense family discussion, but he didn't want to leave Parvati either. Something about her situation, not just losing her sister but everything. He had a father's sense about this. He motioned for George and him to stand against the wall, in order to assess the situation. His son rapidly pulled out a pair of extendable ears and handed them to him. Even after losing his twin brother, George remained a step ahead of him.

After spending a few moments assembling the eavesdropping device, and leaning aside so George could listen as well, they both held still. The words of the one-sided screaming match were not difficult to decipher.

"You selfish whore. Do you care nothing of your sister? You abandoned her, instead waiting for that foolish idiot you hang around with to wake up. News flash- she's dead!"

"Papi, I didn't know. I swear-" Arthur was astonished at the cruelty coming from the father's mouth. And the young Patil didn't even defend her honor. He had no right. He had abandoned his daughters.

"How dare you. It should have been you!" The man had stopped screaming, and a scuffle ensued. The unmistakable sound of flesh against flesh resounded out the ear. it was time to intervene. He had wanted to earlier, but he hadn't known if it was necessary.

When they reached the scene, the damage was mostly done already. Perhaps this was a one-time event in the Patil family, driven by anger and misplaced blame. He sincerely hoped this was so, but he knew deep in his gut that it was not. His scene previously with Parvati seemed to support this opinion.

Parvati looked a little worse for the wear. Actually, the longer he looked, the worse she turned out to be. Her robes were still grimy from the battle, and she looked like she hasn't seen a cleansing shower for weeks. Recalling that the D.A. had spent the last few weeks in the Room of Requirements, the dust was understandable. But she looked so skinny. Like Ginny was after the Holidays. There was no hope in her eyes. The slump in her shoulders, the hallow look of her face, and the bruises and other marks covering the visible parts of her body, not to mention the glances she kept shooting her father- all seemed to indicate he was partially to blame. And he was obligated to act.

But George, it seemed, had surveyed the scene and reached the same conclusion much faster than his father. His mouth was furrowed, his left hand clenched in anger, his right hand enclosed around his wand, held right up against Mr. Patil's face. He looked angrier than Arthur had ever seen him, even in battle.

"Mr. Patil." He spoke slowly, with disdain. "I am going to back up, and get my anger in check. Do not move."

Mr. Patil didn't move an inch.

"You have to understand, sir. I lost my twin brother today. I am angry, sir. Very angry."

"My apologies," the other man mumbled insincerely.

"You misunderstood me. The only thing keeping me from slamming my fist in your face is that lovely woman right there." He slammed his visit against the wall, right next to Mr. Patil's head. Point understood.

"That girl over there. Her name is Parvati. I don't know much about her, except that my sister, Ginny Weasley, told me she bravely stood up for little children this year. She withstood torture and isolation for the D.A. Her best friend got ravaged by Greyback. Her twin sister got killed after a cease-fire. And she is still here, still standing. That takes courage. That takes fire." He paused, letting the message sink in.

"She's got balls. And I am sorry that she didn't seen to inherit it from you, you coward. I am sorry for your loss sir. But right now, I kind of hate you." Arthur couldn't help but agree, and felt a tingling pride well up in his chest. With one last pointed look at his daughter, Mr. Patil stomped away from them down the corridor.

Parvati had turned from George an Arthur, as if trying to figure out what to say. He had just gained what he supposed was a rather honest insight into her family life. Victory may have come, but there were still many battles that needed fighting.

He found her hours later, once again by Lavender's side at the infirmary. Her small frame was seated at the ravaged girl's side. He watched for a few moments, wondering if he should just leave the poor child alone. She didn't say anything, she was barely moving but the tiny tremor in her back and shoulders seemed to indicate the presence of crying. Damn. He couldn't leave her now.

He cleared his throat and walked up to sit beside her, careful to give her plenty of space. He waited for her to speak.

"Sir, I was just saying goodbye. If I am not allowed in here..." Her voice trailed off. While speaking, she had gotten up and started for the door. She was speaking so quietly, his ears strained to listen to her. He shook his head and patted the previously occupied seat.

" I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And call me Arthur, please."

"Sir-Mr. Weasley- Arthur. There was no need. I was just saying goodbye. I am leaving, with my dad." He stared at her. This was not good news. She looked down, and he couldn't help but notice her knees had begun to shake as well. She continued, her voice steady.

" Padma, you never knew her, but she was the most brilliant witch I have ever known. She is- was- my better half." She took a long breath. "She was kind, and intelligent, and unselfish, and I promised myself I would look after her. I would protect her. But I failed." Her voice began to crescendo. " I killed her. So I am going to go home with my father. i will set things right, it is the least I can do." She was no longer trembling, and she could now look him in the eye. What he saw there scared him very much. A grim finality, almost fatality. No fear, no sadness.

"Parvati, your father today- he hit you." He wanted some kinder and gentler way to talk to her, but nothing came Into his head.

"That was just a disagreement. You came at the wrong time. It was no big deal."

"That's what concerns me about you going home, Parvati. The fact that to you, that was no big deal. Maybe you don't care that a dad hurts his daughter after she had just lost her twin sister. But I care. He is going to hurt you, possibly worse, and I can't let that happen."

She shook her head, confused. " but don't you see, I deserve it. All of it and more. Didn't you hear him? It should have been me. He is right."

"No!" He was nearly shouting. " it was not your fault. I lost a son out there today. It was my duty, my obligation to try to protect him. But it is also my duty to give him the freedom to make his own decisions. And Fred chose to fight and give up his life. I could beat up myself about it, or I could be proud that I raised such a selfless and courageous son."

"But it's different-"

"Parvati, you did protect her. You gave her part of yourself. You loved her. You still do. And she knows, I truly believe she does. She did the same for you." He put his arm around her, in what he hoped was a comforting fashion. She leaned her head against his, and her trembling slowed and came to a halt. She closed her eyes, her breathing slowed, and she feel asleep.

_In the moment before consciousness and sleep, Mr. Weasley swore he could feel Fred sitting beside them._


End file.
